Dreams We Make Reality
by FallenAngel218
Summary: Sam sleepwalks out of the motel room one night, and returns covered in blood. Things get complicated when the police come knocking the next morning, and Dean is arrested for murder.
1. Chapter 1

_My fascination with sleepwalking inspired this story. With everything these guys have been through, at least one of the Winchesters has to be a sleepwalker. As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated!_

_Fallen Angel_

As he sat on his bed undressing, Dean Winchester settled his glance on his brother, sound asleep in the next bed. The Georgia air was still and muggy, and Dean had managed to prop open most of the windows in the motel room, as their A/C unit was broken.

Pulling back the covers, Dean could not help but keep staring at his brother. It had been a couple of hours since Sam had gone to bed, and Dean was afraid he'd have another episode. Keeping his eyes on Sam, he climbed into bed and let his body sink into the semi-uncomfortable mattress. His body ached from the day's hunt. Catching a werewolf was always a difficult task, and even harder to shoot one, seeing as it was once an innocent person.

As he slowly fell into sleep, Dean heard a shuffle coming from his brother's direction, and sat up immediately in bed. Sam wasn't in his bed. He scanned the room and quickly found his brother rifling through a duffel bag.

"Sam," he said as normally as possible "go back to bed, dude."  
"Gotta get it. Gonna kill…" Sam mumbled the words almost incoherently.

Dean climbed out of bed and walked toward his brother.

"Come on, just go back to bed." He reached out for Sam, and was met with Sam's fist connecting with his face. Dean stumbled backwards at the blow, stunned. "God damn it, Sam! Get your ass back into bed!"

Sam proceeded to load a gun in front of Dean. Fearing that Sam would try to shoot him, Dean leapt at his brother and tried to wrench the gun away from him. Sam was a formidable opponent for his brother, and the struggle lasted until Dean ended up on the floor, holding his stomach where Sam had punched him. Putting the gun into the band of his athletic shorts, Sam bolted for the door. Dean got up and tried to run after him, but he couldn't get very far, as he was still regaining his breath from the punch his brother had thrown. He was even more dismayed when Sam got into the Impala and drove away.

"Shit!" Dean shouted in anger as he watched his sleepwalking brother drive away in their one and only mode of transportation. He had no other way of tracking Sam than to steal a car, and the motel they had chosen actually had working security cameras, so it was out of the question. All Dean could do was wait until Sam returned, _if _he returned.

--

Dean awoke the next morning to find Sam back in bed, snoring loudly. He must have come back after Dean had finally fallen asleep again. Climbing out of bed, Dean found the gun Sam had taken in the middle of the floor, in pieces.

Immediately Dean went to his brother's bedside and shook him lightly.

"Sam, get up!"

Sam stirred and turned over. A stunned look washed over Dean's face, and he backed up and fell back into a sitting position on his bed.

"Dean, what's the matter? You're white as a ghost."

Dean didn't know how to tell his brother what he saw.

"Sam, what did you do?"

Sam went to throw off the covers and felt moisture on the sheets. He looked down to see what it was, and his face turned as pale as his brother's. His clothes and sheets were covered in blood, and his arms and chest were covered in bruises.

"Dean, I swear I don't know—" he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. They exchanged glances as Dean responded to the knock.

"Who is it?" he yelled.

"DeKalb Police! Open up!"

Dean jumped up and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him off the bed.

"Just a second!" He tore the sheets off his brother's bed and threw them into Sam's arms. "Get into the bathroom. I'll take care of everything." As Sam ran into the bathroom to hide the evidence, Dean picked up what was left of his favorite firearm and threw them into the side pocket of his duffel bag.

"Open this door, now!"

Dean threw the comforter back onto his brother's bed and made it with the spare pillow he had been using. He had to make it look like he was the only one who had slept there that night.

As he finished, the door burst open, and two officers barged in, guns pointed at Dean.

"Hands over your head! NOW!" Dean did as directed. As one of the officers put the handcuffs on Dean, the other went to check the bathroom. A lump formed in Dean's throat. They were going to find Sam and his blood-soaked wardrobe.

"What the hell am I being arrested for! I didn't do anything!"

"Premeditated murder isn't a misdemeanor, Mr. White. You're in serious trouble."

Dean's heart sank. What had his brother done in his sleep? If they figured out who he really was, both of them were screwed royally.

--

Sam crouched down under the bathroom window as he listened to the police inside his motel room. He was thankful they had chosen a hotel with such an escape route. He wasn't sure what he had done, but it was going to bring them down. He had to remember where he had gone, what he had done, and why he woke up doused in blood. The first thing he had to do was get his brother out of police custody, and he was going to need reinforcements. Pulling his cell phone from the pocket of his shorts, he flipped it open and started to dial Bobby's phone number.


	2. Chapter 2

_So here's chapter 2…I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it! As always, I invite reviews. They help me make my writing better. Don't forget to check out the poll above my bio on my page. I could really use the input!_

_Fallen Angel_

"Slow down, will ya?" Bobby shouted into the phone. He was driving on the interstate, just outside of Tallahassee. "Now tell me exactly why you woke up covered in blood."

"I don't know! The last thing I remember is going to bed last night. Dean was still up, on the internet."

"And you don't remember else?"

"Nothing. That's it. The next thing I remember was Dean shaking my shoulder and looking at me like I was a freak or something."

Bobby looked up at the highway sign he was passing under. "Okay, here's the deal. I'm on 319 North in Florida. I'm almost to the Interstate. Get everything you and Dean own and get away from that motel before the cops and CSI get there. Burn anything with blood on it, and get rid of the gun. I'll be in Atlanta in a few hours. Find a new motel, far away from that one, and call me back. You got all that, son?"

"I'll call you in an hour." Sam closed his phone and practically leapt off the bed. He shoved all of their possessions into the duffels and ran out to the Impala. After securing them in the trunk, he went back in and gathered all of the bloody sheets and clothing, grabbed his computer and left after doing a final quick sweep of the room.

Sam drove across town to a different motel, and hid the car around the back where it wouldn't be seen. He checked into the most inconspicuous room he could find and set off into the woods behind the motel buildings to burn the evidence of what he had done, if he could remember.

When everything was disposed of, Sam took a shower to rinse any other evidence away from his body, and got into some fresh clothes. His phone rang as he pulled on an old t-shirt.

"Where are you?" Bobby said flatly. Sam had forgotten to call as he had promised, and Bobby was very close to annoyed.

"Motel 6 on Lawrenceville Highway."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

--

Bobby adjusted his tie as he sat in his rented Acura outside the precinct where Dean was being held. He was furious that Sam had picked a motel so close to the police station, and told him to move out right away. The two planned a con that involved Bobby posing as Dean's lawyer and Sam waiting a few blocks away with the Impala. Taking a deep breath, Bobby got out of the car and went into the precinct.

Judging by the size of the main room when he walked in, Bobby knew it wasn't going to take him long to con his way in to see Dean.

"Can I help you?" an officer asked as Bobby approached the desk.

"I need to speak to the officer in charge of Dean White's case."

"And you are…" The officer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"John Wilkinson, Mr. White's attorney. My client is being held here without the opportunity for bail, and I want to see someone in charge!" Bobby's voice was so loud and profound that several officers stopped to see what the commotion was about. A door opened to the left, and someone stepped out and started walking toward Bobby.

"I'm Lieutenant Kerri Moore. Please follow me, sir. We've been waiting for you."

Bobby followed her into the room she had come out of, and there was Dean, clad in a bright orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed.

"Are you all right, son?" Bobby asked. Dean nodded, and Bobby launched into his con. "I want to see the evidence you have against my client to support your accusations, Lieutenant."

"His car was seen leaving the scene of a brutal attack, Mr. Wilkinson. The responding officer ran his license plate," Lieutenant Moore told him.

"This is ridiculous. I want my client released on bail right now. There's no need for you to be holding him for a crime you don't have any solid proof he committed!" He went over and put his hand on Dean's arm. "Take these off. We're leaving."

"Hold on a second, counselor. Mr. White isn't going anywhere until his arraignment."

"Did anyone check his alibi? Maybe his car was stolen, did you ever think to ask him that? Or did you just assume that because it was his car, he _had _to be your guy?"

The Lieutenant turned to Dean. "Okay Mr. White. Where were you last night?"

"I was out at the Klassy Kat. Ask anyone at the bar, and they'll tell you I was there. 555-2437 is the number." Dean stated promptly.

Lt. Moore turned to the other officer in the room. "Sergeant, check that out, will you please? If he's innocent, I don't want to hold him here any longer."

"Can I have a few minutes alone with my client, please?"

"Sure," the Lieutenant left the room, and Bobby turned to Dean.

"What the hell happened last night, Dean?" he questioned.

"Sam's been sleepwalking. He knocked me out cold and took off with the car." Bobby pulled out a chair and sat next to Dean.

"When you and me walk out of here after they clear you, we're going to drive three blocks down, you're to get into the car with Sam, and get the hell out of town, got it?"

"Yeah, I got ya."

"So what number did you give them?" Bobby asked.

"I gave them Sam's cell phone number. He'll know what to do when they call."

"You'd better hope he does, or the both of you are going to have a lot of explaining to do, because it'll only be a matter of time before all this is traced back to Sam."

Dean sat back in his chair and took in Bobby's fixed gaze. He was right. The sooner they all got out of town, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

_Here is chapter 3...finally! I've been trying to get online all week, and was finally able to do so. Hope you enjoy, and reviews are welcome!! I am working on the next one, and hope to have it up within the next 24 hours.  
Fallen Angel_

"All right, Mr. White. You're free to go," said the Lieutenant, tossing Dean his clothes. "You can pick up your belongings at the desk on your way out."

"Thanks," he said, grinning. "Can I get some privacy?" he asked Bobby when the Lieutenant left the room. Bobby nodded and headed for the door.

"Make it quick."

Dean made short work of changing his clothes, and he and Bobby left the police station.

"Sam's waiting a few blocks away with the Impala," Bobby said as he and Dean got into the Acura.

"How far did you have to go to get this thing?" Dean asked, checking out the car's interior.

"Far enough. You owe me 250."

"And would you like me to pull that out of my ass?" Dean said dryly.

"You could always use one of your seven credit cards. And after you pay me, I can show you just where to shove them."

"Right." Dean buckled his seat belt and closed his mouth, and he and Bobby set off to pick up the truck meet Sam.

--

Sam was leaning against the driver's door of the Impala smoking a cigarette when Bobby and Dean pulled up. As Dean got out of the truck, Sam threw away his cigarette and made a beeline for his brother.

"Are you okay?"

"Obviously, Sam. You weren't smoking that thing in the car, were you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course not." There was a silence between the three men for a good twenty seconds. "So…what did I do?" Sam asked finally. Bobby reached into his coat and pulled out a manila file.

"Here, read it for yourself." Sam grabbed the file and flipped it open. His eyes went wide as he read the file. As he neared the end, his hands became shaky, and the file fell from his grip, papers scattering on the ground.

"How could I do that?" he looked at Dean. "How could I slit somebody's throat in my sleep?" Sam took a few steps backward, and started to feel a bit faint. Dean rushed to his side and put Sam's arm around his shoulder.

"It's gonna be all right. We'll figure this thing out, ok?"

"But what if I—well, try it again?"

"I'll start locking the deadbolt again and hide the weapons, like Dad used to when we were kids."

"Dean I'm not five anymore. A deadbolt isn't going to stop me." Sam caught a glimpse of a photograph from the case file on the ground, and bent to pick it up. He stared at the photo almost hypnotically. The girl in the photograph was young—she couldn't have been much older than Sam, and she was beautiful. What had possessed him to attack an innocent person in his sleep?

"You okay Sammy?"

Sam looked up at his brother and Bobby.

"There has to be a reason I did this. I can't let this go. I want to remember."

Bobby stepped forward.

"Are you suggesting that we investigate this ourselves?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Okay, so where do we start, Sam? You have no recollection of last night whatsoever."

"I've been researching sleepwalking since Sam was little," Dean chimed in. "We should start by retracing every step that Sam and I took yesterday. People usually dream about things that happened during the day. So if Sam and I relive yesterday again, maybe we can figure out what made him—well, yeah."

"That's a great idea, but I think we need to get ourselves across town and get you two hidden." All agreed, and within seconds everyone was in their vehicles and on their way.

--

Bobby found a discreet motel across town and checked them in under a false name. Once inside the room, they started to discuss the previous day's activities.

"Did you guys talk about anything unusual during breakfast yesterday?" Bobby asked, pulling up a chair from the table.

"We were talking about Dean's deal, and then he found a case in the newspaper."

"Right," said Dean, getting up off the bed. "We ended up tracking a werewolf. It killed twice in one night."

"Or maybe there was more than one," Bobby added. "Did you get the one you were after?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, and Dean let out a nervous chuckle.

"Uh, not exactly."

"Dude, that's it! That's got to be it! I must have been dreaming about the werewolf."

"You mean we went through all this nonsense because Sam was dreaming about a werewolf?" Bobby asked, sounding almost annoyed.

"That can't be it, Sam. It's too easy."

Sam got up from the table.

"I don't know what else it could have been, Dean."

"Hold on a second, boys. We still have some gaps to fill in. What exactly happened with this werewolf?"

"It kinda attacked Sam."

"What?! And you waited this long to tell me? Is there anything else I should know before Sam turns into a werewolf?"

"It didn't bite him. I shot the bastard in the leg before it managed to, but Sam's got a pretty nasty scratch."

"Wait a minute Dean. You don't think that scratch has anything to do with what happened last night, do you?"

Dean thought back to the other night. Sam had not been himself. He had dealt with the sleepwalking before, but Sam had never become violent toward him.

"It's possible. You hit me pretty hard last night." Dean indicated his black eye.

"Sorry about that."

"Enough already! It seems like the scratch Sam got is affecting his personality, but not turning him into a werewolf. His sleepwalking spells don't seem to help, either."

"So we get rid of his sleepwalking, and everyone sleeps better, right?" Dean asked, hopeful.

"Almost. There's no guarantee that Sam will never sleepwalk again. Something like sleepwalking is very hard to control, and with a lifestyle like you guys have, I can't see Sam being free of it for a very long time, if ever."

"Thanks for being so hopeful, Bobby." Sam said dryly.

"There's got to be a way to help my brother. I can't just let him become a sleepwalking serial killer!"

"We're not going to let that happen. We'll find a way to save Sam. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4 is here! It's been a really long time coming. I've had a lot going on lately, and I cannot update all of my stories at once. I will try and get this one moving right along for you guys. Happy reading!_

The rain came down in sheets as Sam darted across the parking lot toward his motel room. His hair and clothes were soaked by the time he got to the door. He hurriedly shoved his key into the door and pushed it open. Dean was sitting at the table, staring at the computer screen.  
"Did you find anything online, Dean?" he asked, setting down the food bag he was carrying next to Dean, who quickly shut the laptop.  
"Yeah, kinda." Sam noticed a slight crack in his brother's voice.  
"Right," Sam said sarcastically as he pulled some dry clothes from his duffel and proceeded to change.  
"There's not much else to do," said Dean, taking a sip of his coffee.  
"How about looking for leads someplace else than ?" Sam pulled a breakfast sandwich from the bag.

"Dude, I had that done before you left." Dean grinned and opened the laptop. He pulled up the information he had found. "There have been five more attacks since the night you got scratched, and they all seem to be in one area."  
Sam crossed his arms. "Nice, Dean, You've actually done your homework."  
"I'm not stupid," Dean snapped, rising from his chair. "Don't treat me like I am." He grabbed his keys from the nightstand by the bed. "Get your coat. We've got work to do."  
"Dean, it's pouring buckets out there. Do you really want to drive in this?"  
"Sure. I've driven in worse." He started for the door. "I don't want to spend my nights watching you sleep and hoping you don't kill anyone!" He darted out into the rain, and Sam scrambled after him, grabbing his coat and shoes along the way.

"So where are we going?" Sam asked his brother. "And weren't we supposed to tell Bobby the minute we found something?"

"Why do we always need Bobby? You and I can handle this."

"Like you handled it when I walked out of the room in my sleep and murdered someone in cold blood?"

"Sam, I know what the hell I'm doing, and I don't need Bobby, damn it!"

"I'm calling him." Sam took out his phone and started dialing, and Dean took his phone and threw it out the window.

"What the hell is your problem, Dean!"

"I told you we don't need Bobby, and for some reason you can't get that through your thick head!"

"Fine," Sam said, sitting back in his seat. "I give up. You win. We don't need him."

Dean stopped the car near the spot where they had last seen the werewolf. A couple of days earlier, he and Sam had been caught off guard by the beast, and in the midst of defending themselves, Sam got scratched pretty badly.

"Dude, this is your big lead?"

"Hey, it's a start, isn't it?"

Dean got out of the car and started to look around. He was hoping he'd find something they'd missed last time they were there. He looked back at his brother, who had gotten out of the vehicle, following Dean's lead.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked.

"I've got nothing, dude. But I've got an idea."

"What's that?"

"I've read that psychics are very astute in finding things that are lost."

Dean chuckled.

"No way, Sammy. There's no way I'm going to sit in the back of some occult store and listen to some old lady's psychobabble."

"You'd rather stand out in the middle of the road and look for evidence that's not here?"

"Pretty much."

"Dean, this is getting ridiculous. We're not going to find _anything _out here! The bastard isn't going to come back to this spot after the fight we gave it, and you're not going to find anything—"

A shrill howl caused Sam to stop talking. Instinctively both of them pulled out guns and started to check out their surroundings. If it was back, they were going to be ready. All of a sudden something jumped on Sam and took him down. Dean turned and tried to pry the werewolf off of his brother, but was met by his friend, who promptly took Dean down as well.

Sam brought his knee up into the werewolf's stomach, and while it was stunned he grabbed his gun and shot it in the chest. As it fell dead, Sam watched it revert back to its human form: a young girl not much older than himself.

At the death of his friend, the other werewolf took off before Dean could get a clean shot at it.

"Damn it!" he said in frustration. He tucked his gun back into his coat and went to Sam's side.

"She wasn't much older than me, Dean."

"Let's go, Sam. The police will be here soon."

Sam got up and climbed into the car with his brother.

"So, now what?" Dean asked.

"I still think we should visit a psychic."

"Dude, you had this planned for a while, didn't you?"

"I kinda researched it while I was waiting for you and Bobby."

"Fine, Sam. Let's go see the psychic." Dean started the car and drove away, just as the police sirens came into earshot.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Notes: **__I've been going over some old fics that have been left unfinished, and I've realized that I've gone about 5 years without updating this fic. I think it's about time I finish it up and let this fic be officially done. The idea was novel when I first thought of it, but I guess frustration must have taken over. So now, five years later, I'm going to finish this fic. Thanks so much and my sincerest apologies! Additional note: I'm going to bring in a psychic we know from the show for this chapter._

__ The boys headed back to the motel room after the werewolf encounter. Bobby was waiting for them, and he was fuming.

"I told you idjits to call me when you found something!"

"It's all Sam's fault," Dean said quickly.

"Hey! Thanks a lot Dean!"

"Shut up, the both of ya, and tell me what is going on," Bobby said angrily.

"We went back to where we got jumped the other night. You were right. There are two of them. They're hunting together."

"Don't tell me—"

"It was an ambush. Sam killed one of them, and the other got away before I could get a clean shot."

"Any more scratches?"

"No, we got lucky this time," Sam said. "I've got an idea to help me remember," he added.

"What's that?"

"I was thinking of seeing a psychic."

"If you're gonna do that, I'm calling Pamela Barnes. She's the only one that can do it right."

Sam nodded, and Bobby stepped outside to make the call.

**SPNSPNSPNSPN**

_~Approximately 10 hours later~_

__A knock on the door brought sighs of relief from Sam and Dean. They'd been waiting on edge for hours, keeping themselves occupied with random things. Bobby opened the door to reveal Pamela. Dean smiled, and couldn't help but look her up and down.

"Like what you see, Dean?" Pamela said with a smirk.

"I uh…"

"It's all right. So who needs to be hypnotized this time?" She asked, breezing past Bobby into the room.

"Sam," Dean said. He told their story in great detail.

"All right," Pamela said when Dean finished. "Let's get started, shall we?" Lie down on the bed, Sam."

Sam did as directed. Dean helped Pamela to sit in a chair next to the bed. Dean sat nearby, just in case.

"All right Sam, just relax… you're going to feel tired… every muscle in your body is going to be relaxed… that's it, deep sleep… relax…"

Sam's eyes drooped and closed as he drifted into a deep sleep.

"Sam, do you remember what happened the night you walked in your sleep?" Pamela asked gently.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

"I was hunting a werewolf…I saw it on 5th street… it was ready to pounce, another victim… I got to it first…killed it. It bled a lot. I got the bitch, though."

Dean felt the color drain from his face as he listened to his brother. They _really _needed to get a handle on the sleepwalking thing.

"Sam, what happened after you killed the werewolf?"

"Left it there… drove home… went to sleep… so tired…"

"Pamela," Bobby said gently from his seat a few feet away. "Wake him up now. We've heard enough."

"Sam, after the count of five, you're going to wake up, feeling refreshed. One, two, three, four, five."

Sam's eyes fluttered open immediately. He sat up in bed.

"Did it work?" he asked.

Dean nodded, got up and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sam looked at Bobby.

"What did I do?"

"You thought you were hunting a werewolf, son. We can't be sure if the girl you killed really was one or not. I think it's best we pack up and get out of town."

Sam nodded, unable to respond. Bobby stood up.

"Pamela, if you don't mind waiting, I'm gonna help the boys pack, then I'll drive you home."

"Sounds good, Bobby. I'm not up for taking that filthy bus again."

**NCISNCISNCIS**

After 10 minutes of prodding, and the promise of buying him pie, Sam and Bobby were able to get Dean to come out of the bathroom. The three of them silently packed up the room and wiped everything with their prints on it. When everything was packed in the Impala, Bobby said goodbye and left to drive Pamela home. Sam and Dean silently got into the car and left without another word, putting the small Georgia town behind them for good.

The drive was silent for the first hour. Dean turned on his Metallica tape after that. Neither of them talked for a while. After three hours of driving, Dean pulled off at a truck stop for gas. As he pulled up to a pump and stopped the car, Sam turned to him.

"Listen…"

"It's all right, Sam. You were sleepwalking. You didn't have any control over what you were doing."

"Then why aren't you talking to me?"

"It's not that simple…"

"That's crap. What's going on?"

Dean turned to his brother and looked him in the eye.

"It was the look on your face while you were sleepwalking that bothers me the most. It was malicious, almost like you _wanted _to hurt me. I guess it just makes me nervous."

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Sam said, eyeing the bruise on his brother's face that was fading black and blue.

"Eh, my face will be all right. But I think we should handcuff you to the bed from now on," Dean said with a smirk.

"Don't even think about it, Dean."

"They're only handcuffs…"

"I'm sure I know what else they've been used for. Keep those damn things away from me."

"Fine, bitch."

"Jerk."


End file.
